Poison Hides Behind a Pretty Label
by The Bitch Who Died
Summary: Love is a toxic thing. /or/ Alcohol is the last kind of poison he should drink with these treacherous feelings boiling inside. *warning: implied sex* \One-shot/ [thundercest] [max/phoebe] *I lied. I actually did write more because people kept asking for a lemon & this came to mind. So . . . Yeah. This is one of the few times I will lie to you, though.* R
1. Chapter 1

Yes, this is another Thundercest one-shot. Yes, I'm still writing my other stories. Yes, this is too short. No, you will not get a sequel.

Now shush your face & read.

* * *

Lipstick stains his collar & teeth. Alcohol poisons his breath. He stumbles into the living room. It's late, midnight, she thinks. Still, she waited with folded arms in her pajamas.

"Hey, beaudifooh," he drunkenly slurs. She thinks he means to call her beautiful but doesn't linger on it.

"You're drunk, Max," she murmurs, a line creasing her temple.

"Whad mahks you ssssure?" He giggles, drawing near her.

"You reek of alcohol, it's midnight, & you're slurring your words," she says in a forcibly clipped tone. He snorts & stumbles nearer. His lips trail her skin, working at her neck. "M - Max - ah!" Her breath hitches as he smiles into a sensitive spot, "ah," her breath comes out heavy as her face reddens, "ngh, M - Max, you're - aah - drunk."

"And that meansss I don't know what I want?" He breathes out, his hands roaming.

"Max, it's me - it's Phoebe, you don't want me," she whispers, her fingers curling around the couch cushion.

"I know who you are," he slurs before kissing her.

She can taste the alcohol on his breath. She can taste the lipstick too. But she likes it. It's gentle & slow, much less of the sloppy lust she would've expected. . . She shouldn't like this. He's drunk. He's drunk & he's her brother. Max pushes her down. His lips don't leave hers. But this is wrong. This is so, so wrong. He's drunk, he's her brother, they're 14. His fingers toy with the waistband of her panties. She lets out a squeak.

This is wrong, this should kill her. She should be screaming into the kiss & pushing at him to get him off her. She should be horrified, wide eyed & panicking. She should be choking on the taste of alcohol. She shouldn't have peacefully closed eyes & be kissing back. This should be the worst possible first kiss.

He grinds his hips into her slowly, painfully.

She lets out a whimper. His tongue dips into her mouth. Swirl, toy with her. This is wrong, this is so, so wrong. So _how _is it so addicting? Her mind should scream no but the zaps of electricity at her lips & the pleasant tingles & shivers running through her body scream yes.

He breaks the kiss to pant, greedy for oxygen.

. . .

It's almost dead silent aside from their pants.

"Max?" Her voice is small.

He doesn't respond.

"Max?" She repeats, a little louder.

He kisses her again.

She bites back her sigh & kisses back. It's greedy this time, passionate. Her hands find his shoulders as his play with her in places that have never been touched before.

It's a long night, & she's grateful that the rest of the family is visiting their aunt.

She wakes up sore & in his arms. She realizes what happened all too quickly.

No.

No, no, no.

God, this is bad. This is very, very bad.

Last night they . . . She squeezes her eyes shut. She gave _everything_ to him last night. _Everything._ What will he think? Oh, God, this is bad. He was _drunk,_ he didn't know what he was doing. They're _twins__._

At _14,_ she gave _everything_ to her brother.

How freaking messed up is that?

He swears. But it doesn't sound scared or disgusted, it sounds pained. He must be swearing because of his hangover. Then he swears again.

His sister, his baby sister, is laying next to him. Naked.

And it all comes back in a rush of pleasure & sparks.

They stare at each other in silence, eyes wide.

"Shit," he says.

"Yeah," she squeaks.

They stare at each other in silence, thinking over what they can say to what happened. But what _is_ there to say to what happened? What in Hell do you say to waking up like this to your twin?

She can hear her heart hammering away in her chest. She can feel butterflies searching for freedom in her stomach. She can still recall the sparks at her lips & the electric shivers at her hips.

He forces his dry throat to gulp down the golf ball. He can hear a pounding in his head leftover from the alcohol but somehow she's so clearly imprinted, whimpering under his touch & repeating his name in breathy screams.

They can hear static in the air.

"I meant it."

One taste of this poison just isn't enough.

* * *

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And trade it for a review,

It'll serve as feedback & motivation for my writing tricks,

And otherwise, I might just slap you.

- Queen Alison the Obstinate


	2. Alert - Thundercest Community

Seriously, this is **important.**

To those of you who **love** only **my** _Thundercest stories:_ there's a **community** I made **for you** guys.

It's the only Thundermans community as of now. But, if when you read this there are others, it's called **_Thundercest_**.

**Instead of following me** **if you mainly care about my Thundercest stories,** **follow the community.** As the fandom grows, more & more Thundercest stories will be added.

**If you become a staff member**, **your Thundercest stories will be added** automatically. Other than those, the very best, as seen by my staff & I, Thundercest stories will be added.

Obviously, they'll be **run by me before they're added,** so worry not if you don't trust the people I pick to be staff.

You can **PM me** the links to Thundercest stories that you think belong in the community & I'll check them out, too because **submissions** are always **acceptable.**

However, **don't spam me** with PMs about **becoming a staff member.** If you're a **loyal reviewer** who **consistently** shows a **trustworthy, intelligent** side to me, chances are,** I'll PM you** & **send you an invitation.**

Alright? Alright.

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